


Stop Singing, For The Love of God

by rrjs01234



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU
Genre: Coming Out, M/M, Road Trips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-06
Updated: 2016-07-06
Packaged: 2018-07-21 21:19:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7405198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rrjs01234/pseuds/rrjs01234
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A road trip/coming out drabble featuring some of the Batfam</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stop Singing, For The Love of God

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, I wrote this really quickly from a prompt my friend gave me. Please don't hate, it's my first time writing fic and I had a lot of fun doing it! There are probably some innaccuracies because I blended some canon together and I haven't read Rebirth yet, but try to ignore them :)
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

Dick, they were starting to realize, was a terrifyingly abysmal singer. While it was hard for anyone to sound good singing Flawless by Beyonce, Dick made it so much worse. So, so much worse.   
Tim was regretting every choice he had made that led up to this moment.  
“I’M SO CROWN CROWN,” Dick shrieked as he skidded the car around a corner and Tim, Jason, and Damian grabbed the edges of their seats for dear life. “BOW DOWN, BITCHES! BOW DOWN, BITCHES!”  
“Stop singing. I will pay you.” Jason said viciously. “Many, many dollars.”  
“Don’t hate, appreciate,” Dick said over the music. Tim was ninety percent sure that when Bruce had installed the sound system in the Batmobile, he had never meant for it to be used like this. (For that matter, they probably weren’t supposed to be in the Batmobile anyway, but it was for work, so Tim figured they got a pass. Thankfully Bruce was in Europe for the weekend.) When they got back to the manor, Tim was going to take Dick’s phone and burn it. And then he was going to ask Bruce about password-protecting the stereo so certain blue-and-black-costumed vigilantes wouldn’t be able to call dibs on the AUX cord and play their road trip mix, which mainly consisted of bad pop music.   
(His conversation with Barbara that morning was starting to make a lot more sense. She had stopped by the manor to drop off a mug for Stephanie that said “You make me batty!” and had the Batman logo on it, informing Tim that it was given to her by Dick when they started dating the first time and was something of a hand-me-down gag gift by now. Jason had apparently had it for a while, but Tim had managed to avoid it.  
“Good luck,” Barbara said, eyes glinting with amusement when Tim mentioned they had to travel to Central City to pick something up from The Flash.  
“Why? It’s just a few hours,” Tim had said, confused. He and Barbara weren’t close,and their conversations that weren’t strictly about work were few and far between.   
“You’ll see,” she had told him, cryptic like some purple-clad Greek oracle.   
Pun not intended.)  
Damian said, “I know where you sleep, Grayson.” Tim looked at him. The murderous expression on the kid’s face was more intimidating than a lot of supervillains he had gone head-to-head with. He genuinely feared for Dick’s life at this point, but he he was inclined to agree with Damian’s point of view. Dick had brought this on himself, Tim thought vindictively.   
Dick was now doing the single ladies dance as best he could with one hand on the wheel.   
“Dick,” Jason said seriously. He was looking slightly green and very much like he regretted coming along. It had taken some convincing, and Tim felt guilty for being a part of it and exposing Jason to such torture. “If you’re trying to come out, we get it. Just make it stop.”  
“I’m straight,” Dick said cheerfully, flapping his hand in time with the music. Jason eyed him doubtfully.   
“I’m not,” Tim muttered, massaging his temples. He blinked as he realized what he had just said, stomach sinking down through the floor. That had not meant to come out. Or rather, he hadn’t.   
“I mean--” He started, trying to undo some of the damage as his heart raced and his mind frantically backtracked.  
Jason threw up his hands and said, “And yet you aren’t the one singing to Beyonce.”  
“Proud of you, man," Dick said, pausing his screaming goat impression. (That was putting it kindly.) “We all knew, though.”  
“I’m sorry, what?” Tim was trying to process this.   
Dick eyed him through the mirror. “Dude. No one thought you and Kon were just dudes being bros.”  
“I,” Tim said, for once in his life at a loss for words.   
“How much longer do we have to go?” Damian asked, breaking the silence. His expression was one of complete disinterest.  
Dick turned the radio up and started singing again, much louder than before, and the moment was gone.  
“An hour.” Tim muttered.  
Jason had fished his phone out of his pocket and was filming Dick.   
“Blackmail,” he informed him. Dick beamed at the camera.   
“I hate road trips,” Damian sighed.


End file.
